The Women of A Dragon Age
by ImaginationMadeMeLove
Summary: Let me speak before I begin my tale. Let me take my ale, wet my tongue and my throat. For now I will not be telling you the story of men. Does not matter what race, what species but here I will tell you the story of women, the many and the few that all of Thedas owe their lives to.
1. Prologue

You know it's half the fun of it really, you get the whole story just bits and pieces, rumors, tales told over lukewarm pints of ale. That's when your own bits and bobbles come into play alongside ink stained parchments and tongues heavy with whispers. Muddled by excitement and laced with ever prevalent traces of lust and envy. I wasn't always there, no not always physically present. But I have ears and eyes spread across the country, trusted, but they were also human, so expect some detail to be slightly embellished. These many stories all intertwined, delicate and intricately as a web of the spider. For the first tale, most of it I was present for. For the second I rely on the quill and storytellers. As words from a main character and his fellow bystanders.

Once again, I reentered along the third story right at the beginning, well as close as anyone else could get to the beginning besides the main character. There it is I can see it churning inside of your mind, fickle and oh so ever predictable. There you go, thinking that I speak of tall gallant men during stools and heavy steel brimming with charismatic energy tongues of silver yet tamed the gentle heart of the Lamb. Its, the most predictable and ever historically repeated story told from voice and paper. But not all stories follow man, this kind of man think of the stories told to you of others, whispers filled with doubt yet stepped in wonder and hope.

Yes, there are men in the stories but they are not the strength, the fire, the unshakable will, no. These stories, are told of strong hearts beating furiously beneath a woman's breast. These three stories alone to her, to them, to women alone. I do not repeat myself, so if you wish to hear my tale, no not my tale, but of the most unbiased truth of these stories than listen. Listen, soft minded fools. For here I will tell you of The Hero Of Fereldan, The Champion of Kirkwall and The Inquisitor as well as the women who stood beside them.


	2. Book 1 Chapter 1

Now some will argue that I should start at the very beginning, with Lady Couslands childhood, experiences and trifle love flings, for that is the beginning. But if one were to argue the context of the beginning for all of these women than I would start with Andraste...but her story will be told in time, as well as that of Flemeth. Now bear with me, for all stories have their own backstory, and that is how I shall begin. But our story begins here, with the daughter of the wild, first I shall discuss Morrigan and how she became entangled with our dear Agatha Cousland...

"Mother dear do not treat me as if I am a daft child" Morrigan hissed. From outside the hut the young witch could hear her mother banging about inside, looking for some potion ingredient no doubt. As for her, the daughter of the pair, she sat perched upon a stump tightening a set of knots that secured feathers from select birds to her staff. Just this morning she had considered switching them out for a much brighter pair she had come across, but the enchantments she had placed upon her current set had taken much time and energy. It seemed a waste to discard them so quickly. But now that the sun was beginning to sink down, the moon taking her shift she was reconsidering once more. "Mother I am going for a walk"

"Don't get killed by darkspawn or snagged by Templars girl, I have no time to clean up such a mess"

"Tch, tis a stupid set of things to warn me about Mother" a glance of annoyance skipped over the hut before Morrigan turned her back to it. Moving up a narrow path, avoiding the swamp with a wrinkled nose, she did hate to get her fur wet with such a stench. She gave little notice to the doubling of her body or the rough pads of her paws against foot beaten land as her body began to change. Eyes, a shade of yellow that fell between beryl and zircon now peered down a snout covered in black fur.

The witch's pace hastened as she was now granted four legs instead of two. Her heart beat furiously inside of her ears, strides becoming longer, muscles stretching and singing with newly announced freedom. Her animal body arched and adjusted to uneven terrain, scents of the damp heather coating the inside of her nostrils, tempting the beast inside. She did not often hunt as a wolf, but sometimes that action sated a itch in her breast that nestled deep within ever since she began to take on the body of animals.

Something about the feel of fragile neck bones snapping between a powerful jaw, the rush of life living the limp body of a hare. The feeling of warm, recently flowing blood seeping between her canines as she tore into a small body that had been a life all of its own mere moments before. The resistance and eventual tear of flesh, hot and lax with an unwillingly acceptance as she was finally able to enjoy her catch. It was a feeling, that she could do little to describe. As close as she could get was to the emotions of reactions that occurred during the limited times she decided to interact with a hunter in the wilds, utilizing a small time period to indulge in the pleasures of the body that a man could offer her.

Ears swiveling she took in the sounds of birds, insects and the steady beat of a wolf pack moving north of her current position. Or those were the sounds that she would be listening for. However, she was met with an unnatural silence. That was what caught her attention. These wolves may be north of her but unlike the past days when they had been heading south they were moving to the east. 'That is odd, they shouldn't be moving east at such a pace during this time of the season' Moving up onto the crest of a hill she paused, looking out over rugged terrain. Jaws widening her ears pressed flat against her skull, the air tasted...sick and littered with smoke. Turning her attention north, now it was plummels of smoke rising into the sky, focusing hard she could just make out odd sounds, sword against sword, yelling. 'That Grey Warden encampment is under attack, by darkspawn no doubt.' as her thought finished a bright flame lit up the sky, seemingly floating against the dark.

It was then that a roar from behind her erupted and a dragon of burgundy scales took flight into the night, maneuvering the wind currents, heading for the tower beacon. 'That's not good' swinging her tail about Morrigan took off at a run for the hut. If her mother was heading to such a place, than no doubt she would demand her daughter to be home to provide some sort of aid. She took little notice as her body once again became upright, her pace turning into a jog as she descended the hill to her home. Moving inside she took note of freshly created poulitice, newly made bandages and other odds and ends that were not usually lying about. Another sign that something was off Keeter. Moving to the cupboard she pulled upon the double paneled storage, plucking up a section of bread and cheese. Pushing a piece of each into her mouth, she chewed slowly, looking around once more. Odd, that was the only way to describe it. Taking another round of small bites she savored the crisp of crust and the give of a soft cheese, taste buds pleased with its current sacrifice. Moving her meal to one hand she pulled a book from the shelf, making her way to a stool pushed into a corner. Lowering herself upon the seat, she flicked the novel open and began to read, chewing and listening for any movement outside...

It had been four, maybe five hours since Morrigan had taken up station next to the two makeshift cots that had been placed inside of the small hut. Her mother had brought back two Warden's with her, both in need of much repair. For a short while it did not seem as if they were going to make it, severe as their injuries were, it was nothing that her mother and her could not handle. These were two of the four that that she had the day before, looking for treaties. One of them a man, well a boy and the other a women. Her gaze lingered briefly on the singular male inside of the room as he breathed heavily and deeply, aided by a sleeping charm. She was not ignorant, the man was indeed attractive by all of society's standards, but having listened to him when he opened his mouth she found him to fall short of many others. It was the women however that caught her interest.

Also asleep on the second cot she slept just as deeply. The women, who had seemed to take a place of leadership amongst the group from yesterday was plain at first glance with not much to say. But a more scrutinizing look opened up the first chapter of what could be a complicated story. Her hair, despite being currently filled with dirt and whatever blood Morrigan herself had not managed to remove was in marvelous condition. It obviously had much care given to it. Check one. Then there were her cheekbones, high and defined and if Morrigan didn't know any better, it was not the pink of faded blood that had come off of the women's cheeks when she had taken a wet cloth to her. It was the residual traces of Rouge. Check two. The muscles of the girl were wirey and trained by blade, not by the labor of farm work or a ranch life. Check three. The list could go one for hours but Morrigan was certain that the women before her held a high status of some kind inside of Fereldan Court.

"Neither of them are dead yet, that's a positive" Flemeth's voice broke Morrigan's pondering. The girl looked up to watch her mother stare at their current guests, arms folded across her chest.

"I will ask once again Mother" Morrigan asked for what seemed the millionth time, a worm of irritation burrowing in her gut. "Whatever did you bring these two from Ostagar for?"

"Once again girl. All in time" Flemeth repeated, a small sense of amusment blooming inside her breast at the annoyance evident upon her offsprings face. "All in time"…...

It was the chatter of the fire, the first thing that came to the ears of the woman recently healed in a bed not her own. Stifling a groan that spoke of stiff joints and weary muscles the female warden flexed fingers and toes. Eyes to opened. She had not expected to awaken,for the failure to fend off an invasion as well and large wings carrying a massive body accompanied by a terrifying screech and a wave of heat, were her last memories. Stifling another groan Agatha turned her attention away from the wooden beams of the ceiling, at that her eyes found themselves upon a woman. The very same woman she had encountered the day before inside of the wilds. She was tall, pale, with long fingers and sharply cut black hair. Her figure, was pleasing to the eye despite any individuals sexual preference. Fingers calloused by long years of magic sorted books upon an old shelf before yellow eyes flickered her way, a look of acknowledgment ever so slightly widening them.

"Ah , your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased" at this young woman moved in length and strides across a small cabin hands finding purchase upon her hips as she stared down at the bleary-eyed brunette that now sat in on crooked upon her knee as she took in her surroundings. Perhaps, the hut was small needless to say, but, hot fire burned in the hearth giving light to many books, many drawings tacked to walls, tables were centered with empty potion vials and crippled pieces of paper. But after everything that I just happened, everything she could remember at least it was comforting.

"I remember you. The girl from the wilds" Agatha gasped as the pieces finally began to fall into place. Too small thickly as an oppressive weight began to settle upon her shoulders. 'What's going on here. Where is Ostagar? Why am I here? How am I even alive?' Question after question the world that of her mind, confusing, file building inside of her throat threatening, ever threatening.

"I am Morrigan, lest you have forgotten. And we are in the wilds, where I am bandaging your wounds. You are welcome, by the way. How does your memory fare? Do you remember mother's rescue?"

"She rescued me? You need from the tower?"

"Mother managed to save you and your friend, 'twas a close call. What is important is that you both live. The man who was to respond to your signal put the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… He is not taking it well."

"My friend? You mean Alistair?" A thrill of familiarity surged through Agatha. Alistair, the boy she had met the day before was someone that she at least a new, for the most part. The image of the tall man, blond haired and strong jawed. With eyes that spoke of a much younger age as if the spirit inside had not quite caught up with his physical cage

"Tis the suspicious, dimwitted one who was with you before, yes. He is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke"

"Your mother wants to see me, why?" At this essence of confusion coated with trepidation filled her senses. Yes this woman I just saved her but these two women were strangers. Why, with a both go out of their way to help individuals that they had nearly had conflict with just the day prior? It didn't make any sense, well, Agatha backpedaled at this, wary. Such an action would not be misplaced or unheard of at court. But this is not the cold this was outside, in the wilds of all places what did they have to gain?

"I do not know, she rarely tells me her plans." The faintest rise of the young which is shoulder spoke of her disinterest. It appeared that this was a normal occurrence.

"Were my injuries severe?" At that Agatha's fingers poked and prodded her own form clothed only by a small clothes. Her eyes flickered next to the chair, parallel to the bed she had awoken upon and noticed that her armor and clothing was cleaned. Folded and placed in a neat stack.

"Yes, but I expect you shall be fine. The darkspawn did nothing Mother could not heal"

"Thank you for helping me Morrigan" she flashed a smile all of genuine gratitude towards the other young woman. Without her and mother, her and Alistair surely would be dead.

"I… You are welcome, though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer. I will stay and make something to eat." A look of discomfort across Morrigan's face. If that wasn't obvious enough, the sudden change in topic accompanied by rushed speech finished painting the picture.

"We thank you none the less." At that Agatha swung her feet over the edge of the bed, reaching for her armor. Besides any wounds or burns that she had seemed to occur during the bottle, the only thing left with a residual effect. Her muscles groaned slightly in protest but offered no real resistance. Piece by piece she redressed herself. Along with her clothing she noted that her hair pins had been rescued as well. Moving her fingers to the her hairline she began a tight Orlisan braid. If last night was any sign of what was to come than it was better to be safe than sorry and she did not want hair in her eyes to be the reason for her death.

"I am surprised you know how to braid your own hair" Morrigans comment came swift. A frown of confusion was the witches response. "Well...I just assumed, by what I assessed that is, tis appears that you are from level of nobility. As is such, one would not expect a woman of such stature to have knowledge of doing their own hair.

"Ah" came the wardens reply, fingers kept busy "Well your assumption of some higher rank is correct" she muttered "But I was taught many things in effort to take care of myself if something ever was to happen. The tightly drawn lips signified that such a strain of conversation was not an open topic. It was treading thin ice.

"Well at least you know how to braid your hair" Morrigan added "Keeps the pesky strays out of your face" she shrugged "though I will have to admit that I do not have knowledge of that particular...skill"

"You don't know how to braid your hair" Agatha stared at the women as she used pins to tuck the tail of her braid up under itself, securing it tightly. "Are you being serious?"

"Quiet serious" Morrigan stated flatly, any amusment draining from her body "I don't see why I should know"

"It's quite handy to know how to do, you stated that yourself mere moments ago" Agatha laughed tightening the last of her buckles of her armor. Morrigan watched her for a few more moments before turning back to the pot, talking a spoon and stirring it almost absentmindedly.

Turning Agatha cast one more glance at the woman who stood staring at a pot inside of the hearth. Deciding that is only awkward conversation would follow she moved towards the door and pulled it open hoping to find Alistair. Her hand came up quickly to cover her eyes as she was greeted by a setting sun glaring off of the water, the swamp that surrounded the hut. It was here on the bank of the swamp that Alastair stood, stiff and rigid his gaze focused on the horizon. The elderly women she assumed to be Morrigan's mother stood just a few feet behind him.

"See? Here's your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man."

"You…" Alistair turned around a look of relief mixed with disbelief painted across features. It was at this even holding a long breath as she was finally releasing it. "You're alive! I thought you were dead for sure."

"I'm not thanks to Morgan's mother" the female warden smiled, her own prompting the barest hint of Alistair's own.

"This doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad" at this elder women protested. Her voice harsh with age, mixed with something else. It was as if she had swallowed large amounts of smoke and have yet to cough it all out of her lungs.

"I – I didn't mean… What do we call you? You never told us your name?"

"Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk, call me Flemeth, I suppose it will do."

"The Flemeth from the legends. Daveth was right" at this Alistair paused to swallow thickly, as if words left him and memory filled his throat in their place. You are the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

"What does that mean?" The woman appeared to be offended, almost annoyed with such a question "I did magic, and it served you both well, has it not?"

"So why did you save us?" At this Agatha really was curious. Like she had pondered earlier. Why were these women helping them?

"Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we? Someone has to deal with these darkspawn. It has always been the Grey Wardens duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

"Of course not!" Agatha exclaimed.

"We were fighting the darkspawn! The King had nearly defeated them! Why would Loghain do this?" Alistair interrupted, a look of anguish apparent across his features. Agatha fell momentarily silent. At Flemeth's almost mocking statement she had felt a sense of pride and a need to defend the Grey Warden's and she had only been one for a day and a half. Whilst Alistair... Had a much deeper connections to the Wardens. This must be a lot tougher on him than it was for her. As Alistair and Flemeth continued to talk the female wardens mind began to wander along its own path.

"When the darkspawn discover one of the Old Gods—ancient draconic creatures slumbering in the depths of the earth—they infect it with their taint, and it rises as an Archdemon. Unified by its will, the darkspawn surge to the surface and spread across the lands, warping and destroying all in their path..." Flemeth had began her history spinning. Daughter to a Teryn, Agatha could practically rattle off the tale verbatim. Stories of the Grey Wardens and their fights were required historical teachings of any nobility rank. The female warden chewed at skin around her thumbnail, an old anxious habit that reared its ugly head during times of great stress.

Agatha's attention was only was brought back to present time at the arrival of their final party member.

"The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Shall we have two guests for the eve of our none?"

"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them."

"Such a shame.. What?!" a look of horror stamped itself across Morrigan's features as she turned to look at her mother. She might as well have been questioning her mother of losing her mind, it looked as if she was questioning the Maker himself regarding the matter.

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears!" The old woman laughed, and in almost a mocking manner.

"I think it's a great idea." Agatha finally spoke up. She shrugged falling silent once more as Morrigan glared at her quickly before turning back to her mother.

"Have I know say in this?"

"You have been itching to get out of the wilds for years. Here's your chance. As for you, wardens, consider this repayment for your lives." Flemeth's tone left no room for argument. It seems as if any disagreement were to be made it would be overlooked or crushed by much more valid reasoning. As a result, within the hour a ragtag bunch of three left the Koccari wilds. One of them soaking at being oined by which, the witch pissed off at her mother and the third merely looking forward to a place to sleep for the night.…

"You have been combing your hair for at least 10 minutes, since Alistair left to go collect wood" Morrigan stated.

At this Agatha looked up, her hand pausing in it's ritualistic motion. "Well, yes" at that Agatha resumed the motion. In her hand was a wide toothed , intricately carved wooden comb. She started at the top of her head and slid the comb down to the ends of her hair that brushed against narrow shoulders.

"Yes, you have been doing it for 10 minutes." The witch accused once again.

"Yes. I have." Agatha watched the other woman as she continued. They had set up camp in a small hollow, makeshift tents would have to do until they can make it to had already established a fire, and Alistair had offered to go off and collect wood. Leaving the two women alone inside of the camp. "It's a habit that I have. My mot-...well I have been doing it since I was a child, every night before bed" her voice falterd but found its path once again.

"Tis an odd habit" Morrigan's nose wrinkled in mild distaste "But I guess everyone has their own"

"Everyone huh?" Agatha hummed "So you know mine now Morrigan. Care to let me know what one of yours is?" Agatha peered at the yellow eyed witch as she finally placed her comb into her sack. She dug her toe into the dirt at her feet with a cough, clearing her throat. Ranking her fingers through her hair the warden was pleased to find that there were no tangles left. One small victory in the hell that they had been tossed into to.

"To ask such a question" Morrigan sniffed crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh come now. We will be traveling for a long time together. I'm going to learn a lot about you eventually" she leaned back on her hands, an amused smirk lifting the corners of her mouth.

"then let it be eventually. There is no need for it tonight"

"No need for what?" Alistair came into the hollow, arms laden with kindling.

"I don't recall you being apart of the conversation" Morrigan, somehow even though sitting looked down her nose at the single male. "I am turning in for the night. Unless we are being over run by darkspawn or something else is trying to kill me then please do not disturb my sleep." scooping up her staff she pushed away from the two tents that the wardens had pitched to her own set of traveling gear. She lifted a single shoulder in acknowledgment at Agatha's call of good dreams. Placing her staff against her bedroll the witch lowered herself down to the mat and pulled a blanket over her. Rolling on her side she grabbed a large jar and unscrewed the lid, laying on the side.

Murmuring and making a coaxing motion with her fingers. A small flame squirmed to life, growing larger, flailing about like a newborn infant. Despite the small size of the fire, the magical flame gave off large amounts of heat, warming her just enough to be comfortable. She could have slept by the fire like her other two traveling partners but being close to such other humans made her skin tight with discomfort and uneasiness. She supposed that it would come easier with time, but that time was not know.

looking forward she noted that Alistair had retreated to his tent whilst Agatha still sat by the fire, something small cupped inside of her hands, held her entire attention. Leaning forward the female warden pressed her lips to whatever it was placing it inside the satchel at her hip. Untying her boots Agatha made her way into her own tent.

Rolling onto her back Morrigan folded her arms behind her head, staring at the stars. One night ago at this same time she was back inside of her hut, playing with spells at the tips of her fingers. Her mother's quiet but familiar snores filled the cabin, raising into the air, only halted by the beams of the ceiling. The hut looked the same, it had changed little over the years of her life. Now it was completely different, she had left the wilds so few times she could count it on one hand. Here she was leaving a home, the only one she had ever known and with a pair that she had known less than twenty-four hours. She had met Agatha just the day before and now the girl had yanked her from her home. Yes, she had been itching for a way to leave the wilds for a long time but now that she had it was a shock. Rubbing at her eyes, she breathed heavily through her nose. The morning was sure to bring another shock, probably unpleasant. Letting out her breath she welcomed sleep as it crept over her, pulling her into is welcoming embrace.


End file.
